


Radio Silence

by FreshBrains



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Getting Back Together, M/M, Multi, POV Daryl, Past Torture, Polyamory, Post-Episode: s07e08 Hearts Still Beating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunions, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: Daryl missed everyone, but he missed something different with Aaron and Eric, missed the warmth of their bed and the heat of their smiles, missed sharing something sort of secret and quiet with them. But ever since he got back, they’ve been distant—Eric still attentive and kind, Aaron strong and willing, but neither of them showing any interest in inviting Daryl back into their bedroom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ Comment_Fic prompt: [Daryl/Aaron, Aaron is in the middle of a sentence and suddenly REO blares on the radio in the garage - I just can't fight this feeling anymore - I've forgotten what I started fighting for](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/611466.html?thread=84723338#t84723338).
> 
> **Major Spoilers for the season 7 mid-season finale.**

When he’s feeling especially like a rabbit with its foot in a trap, Daryl likes to conjure up a pep talk from Dr. Denise. She was damn good at them, despite not getting the chance to really rally before the Saviors took her out, and after all, she _was_ a doctor. Daryl doesn’t know much about mental disorders, but he’s pretty sure he can recognize the signs of PTSD in his shakes and cringes and general distaste for the dark.

  
_You have lived through so much, and you’re going to live through this_ , Denise tells him in his mind. For a while, she was leaning up against the workbench, arms folded over her Henley shirt, face gentle and unassuming. But he can’t do that anymore, can’t bear to see her, just like he can’t bear to see Glenn sitting cross-legged next to the bike’s front wheel, handing Daryl the wrong wrench and chattering aimlessly about baby names.

  
But he still hears their voices, and it’s nice.

  
_This will hurt for a long time, just like a physical wound. You need to allow it to heal before you make it worse_. Daryl knows she’s right, but there’s so much to be done, so few hours in the day, so little to fall back on. He’ll die before he goes back to the Sanctuary, and their numbers tell him that’s where they’re all headed unless they really get their shit together.

  
He hears the shuffle of a key in the garage door lock before it slides up and open with a clang, letting in the midday sun. Daryl squints at Aaron’s form. “Where you been?”

  
“Half a mile south,” Aaron says absently, closing the door behind him, allowing Daryl the darkness. He’s sweating and dirt-smudged. “There’s a copse of trees that fell in a storm. Eric needs firewood for the house, and there always needs to be a fire going at the med office…just in case.”

  
_Just in case we lose power and have to heat water and heal bones by candle_ , Daryl thinks bitterly. Eric had only a year of nursing school before everything ended, and now he’s the doctor of Alexandria. “How’s he doing?”

  
“Not great,” Aaron admits, sitting on the cement steps next to the door leading to the inside of the house. “But we’ve all been worse. We missed you.”

  
“I know,” Daryl says simply. He missed everyone, but he missed something different with Aaron and Eric, missed the warmth of their bed and the heat of their smiles, missed sharing something sort of secret and quiet with them. But ever since he got back, they’ve been distant—Eric still attentive and kind, Aaron strong and willing, but neither of them showing any interest in inviting Daryl back into their bedroom.

  
“It’s quiet in here,” Aaron says. He’s sitting with his elbows on his knees, eyes tired, the bruises and cuts on his face finally fading into something like shadow. “Do you not like the radio anymore?” The garage stereo has never been reliable, but the three old classic rock cassette tapes they rotated in and out got their fair share of use.

  
_Music is a trigger_ , Denise warns. _Sometimes they can’t be avoided, but sometimes you can actively remove them_. Years ago, he would’ve laughed at the idea of triggers, but now, he sort of gets it.

  
“They played a song when I was locked up,” Daryl says bluntly, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. “Never heard it before. Something about the easy street.” He was so angry and starving during his time in the cell that the words became jumbled and half-real in no time. “Tried to smoke me out with it, but it didn’t work.”

  
Aaron raises an eyebrow. “Easy Street. Like, from… _Annie_?”

  
Daryl gives him a blank look.

  
“The musical,” Aaron elaborates. “The little orphan girl.”

  
“Aaron, do I look like—”

  
“Never mind,” Aaron says, hiding a grin. “I can’t imagine it was fun either way.”

  
“Barrel of laughs,” Daryl says. He steps back from the bike, interest suddenly lost. He can smell the sweat and evergreen coming off Aaron’s body; he’s eying the rise and fall of Aaron’s chest under his plaid shirt. He takes a step towards Aaron, but Aaron stands, nervously wiping his palms on his jeans, moving towards the stereo on the work bench.

  
“I can probably tinker with it,” he says, fumbling it up from the pile of nuts and bolts, the dust coming off on his fingers. “Maybe get some white noise going, something sort of calming…”

  
“Come here,” Daryl says, wrapping a hand around the back of Aaron’s neck, fingers sinking into the warm skin above Aaron’s collar.

  
“I want this place to be good for you, to be—”

  
“Don’t worry about the damn radio,” Daryl says, pressing their foreheads together.

  
Aaron inhales sharply, mouth parting.“I’m afraid that—” Before he can finish, the radio slips from his hands and clatters onto the floor. It skitters to life, the dial panel flashing, and the tape whirs out a weak, stuttering line of REO Speedwagon… _I can’t fight this feeling anymore—I can’t fight this feeling—I can’t_ …before dying.

  
“No being afraid,” Daryl says, and pulls Aaron in, kissing him hard, strong arms winding around his waist. He allows himself softness now, allowed himself to sink into Rick’s arms when they were reunited, allowed himself to cry, but right now, he wants to be strong for this man. He wants to be strong for him and Eric, give them something to lean on and trust.

  
_I think you’re learning about not fighting your feelings_ , Denise says. _We could all learn from REO once in a while, huh_?

  
_Shut up, doc_ , Daryl thinks, deepening the kiss. He knows he doesn’t really want Denise to shut up, just like he doesn’t want Glenn or Abraham or Beth or Merle or anyone else to ever really go away, but right now, he only wants to hear the hammer of their hearts in a quiet garage on a quiet summer day.


End file.
